


Forty Days

by etymolodrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Corona Virus - Freeform, Coronavirus, Drarry, EWE, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Forced Proximity, Harry Potter AU, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Disease, Magical Theory, Not Epilogue Compliant, Obligatory quarantine fic, Rivals to Lovers, because how else to cope with a pandemic, obligatory quarantine fanfiction, than to use said pandemic as a fanfic plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry
Summary: A strange disease has swept through Hogwarts, forcing students to quarantine in pairs... and of course Harry is paired with Draco Malfoy, of all people.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 53
Kudos: 488





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't make the magical disease part of things as detailed/realistic as I'd like, but it's really only relevant in the beginning—please let me know what you think!

_“Students will be brought in class groups to the Great Hall for testing. If you are experiencing symptoms, alert your professor immediately. Until a head of house arrives to escort you, everyone is to stay in their classroom and remain calm.”_

What had started as a simple flu outbreak had quickly escalated to something much worse. Two days earlier, a fifth year turned up to the hospital wing with the flu, and no amount of pepper-up or fever-reducers could alleviate the symptoms. By the next day, twelve others had the same symptoms. The staff responded accordingly, encouraging students to wash their hands and report to the hospital wing if they’re sick. Unfortunately, this didn’t do much to slow the progression of the strange illness, as the next day, the hospital wing was packed. At that point, sick students were asked to stay in their dorms while the staff planned a course of action.

“What if your professor _is_ a head of house?” Harry asked out loud, eyeing Professor Snape as the announcement patronus finished its message and vanished.

Before anyone could consider his question, Snape stood from his desk, scowling. He flicked his wand behind him as headed for the door, vanishing the contents of their cauldrons. “You are _all_ to remain seated until further notice,” he glared at them, an unspoken threat behind his eyes. “Granger, you’re in charge.” He slammed the door behind him.

Hermione hesitated before standing from her desk. “Well? Is anyone experiencing symptoms?”

There was a long pause. “Uh… what _are_ the symptoms?” Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. “According to St. Mungos… it’s pretty much like the common flu. Coughing, sneezing, fever, breathing problems… but it doesn’t respond to magic at all. In fact, it _feeds_ on magic. So if anyone’s finding that their magic is weaker than normal, or that spells aren’t working very well for you… then you may have it.”

“Oh…” Ron furrowed his brow, and Hermione gave him a sharp look. “Uh, I think I have it, then,” he sneezed, “I thought it was just allergies.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You don’t _have_ allergies.”

“Well that’s just _great,_ ” Draco drawled as Hermione berated him for coming to class. “If one of us has it, then we all could.” 

“You’re wrong, Malfoy,” Hermione interjected before the other students could panic. “It _isn’t_ airborne. It’s like a respiratory virus. It’s spread through coughing and sneezing. Come on guys, we can handle this. We’ve been through worse.” These were seventh and eighth years, after all. 

Hermione frowned. Snape _had_ said to remain seated… “Everyone who’s experiencing flu-like symptoms that _did not_ respond to a pepper-up should move to this side of the room—” she pointed to one side, “—and everyone else should go to the other side.”

No one, not even Draco, pointed out the blatant rule breaking, as everyone shuffled to their respective sides. 

The door opened only a few minutes later.

“Alright, students. Form a single file line and follow me.” Headmistress McGonagall had a thin layer of magic covering her mouth and nose, resembling a muggle medical mask. Everyone frantically gathered their things to follow her. A few students attempted to joke about the situation, but they fell short. 

The Great Hall was almost empty aside from Madam Pomfrey and a few healers from St. Mungos. Luckily, there was a diagnostic spell that easily detected the illness. Unfortunately, over half of their class was infected, even without symptoms. A few students were having difficulty breathing, and Madam Pomfrey had to carefully extract the fluid from their lungs and vanish it—It looked awful.

Once they were all tested and wearing the strange magical masks, McGonagall cleared her throat. “Attention, please.” She waited for everyone to stop talking. “Given how communicable this illness appears to be, all students will be quarantined from this point onwards. Uninfected students will move to the east wing rooms in pairs, and under _no circumstances_ are you to leave. As for the rest of you, you’ll be quarantined in larger groups in your dorms to ease stress on the hospital wing. Now, aside from today, classes are _not_ cancelled,” she paused as the students grumbled to themselves under their breath, “but in-person lectures are suspended at this time. Notes and assignments, as well as meals, will be delivered by the house elves.”

She pointed her wand into the air, which shot out white, semi-transparent letters that eventually lined themselves up into words. They were the names of the uninfected students in pairs to indicate who they were to quarantine with. “If any of you develop symptoms, floo call myself or Madam Pomfrey _immediately._ Additionally, if you…” 

Harry tuned her out as he searched for his name, but the swirling letters made it difficult. When he finally found it, he groaned. _Draco Malfoy. What the hell?_

Draco was already glaring at him as McGonagall continued. “Each pair will choose a room in the east wing, and a house elf will deliver your things by the end of the day. There will be _no_ _switching—_ each pair has been carefully chosen to minimize your chance of infection.”

Harry looked desperately at Ron and Hermione, who were watching him sympathetically. He furrowed his brow; if Ron was infected… then Hermione probably was, too. Hermione nodded when she saw his realization.

Harry made to go over to them, but McGonagall grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. “I _know_ , Mr. Potter,” She gazed at him over her glasses, “But you _mustn’t_ expose yourself. You’re free to send them messages by owl, but that’s _it._ Do you understand me?”

Harry sighed and nodded before heading to the exit. He paused at the threshold and looked behind him, raising his eyebrow at Draco, who still stood in the same spot. With another glare, he turned on his heel and walked straight past him, head held high. Harry wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the faint blush across his cheeks. Harry didn’t bother giving his input on which room they should choose. Draco chose the first open door he saw, and once the door closed behind them, the doorknob vanished. _That’s comforting._

The room looked just like the eighth year dormitories, aside from the extra furniture. In the corner was a small fireplace with a few chairs, right next to a table for eating. 

Draco headed straight for the first bed and swung the drapes shut without a word, effectively cutting himself off room the rest of the room. Harry sighed and sat in front of the fire instead, rifling through his bag. He didn’t have any spare parchment in his bag to write to his friends, and his trunk hadn’t appeared yet. He dug out a crumpled scroll and smoothed it over his knee. Hermione wouldn’t be too happy if he wrote on an old charms essay… _oh well._ He found a quill in his pocket and started scribbling anyway.

* * *

“Will you be _quiet?_ ” 

Harry groaned, throwing back the blankets and sitting up in his bed. It had been two days—so far, it hadn’t been _that_ bad, but the close confinement was starting to get to him. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on the strands. This room was small— it reminded Harry too much of his cupboard. He wiped his sweaty palms on the comforter—Maybe McGonagall would let him help somehow. He wouldn’t mind getting sick if it got him out of this _goddamn room_. He wanted to floo call her, but she was probably busy. There were hundreds of students infected—the last thing she needed was Harry’s whining.

 _I’ll be fine,_ Harry thought—he _had_ spent eleven years in a tiny cupboard without losing his mind. _How did I manage that?_

Harry stood up and headed to the bathroom. It could be worse; hell, Harry had _experienced_ worse. _But that was before I knew of anything better,_ he thought bitterly. He splashed cold water on his face, which helped a little. 

He shuffled back to his bed and froze when he reached it. He’d left the sheets crumpled, his duvet in a pile at the end of the bed. But now, it was made perfectly. 

“What—”

From across the room, Draco shrugged and turned a page in his book. “Being stuck in your room is much easier if you’ve made your bed.” Sure enough, Draco was lying _on top_ of his bed, which he had made with a flick of his wand as soon as he woke up that morning. 

Harry squinted at him. “What would you know about being stuck in your room?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Would it kill you to be civil for _once?_ ”

“Right, as if I didn’t just _help_ you _,”_ Draco sighed sarcastically. “But I guess I’ll have to try harder to be _civil_ . _”_

“Sorry,” Harry said shortly, grabbing his schoolwork with a huff and dumping it on his bed. “And thanks, I guess.”

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the day. 

* * *

Harry was on edge again. He was doing better at keeping it in, though. It wasn’t just the enclosed space that was bothering him—it was the fact that Draco was _barely speaking at all_. When he did speak, every word was with anger and malice, so at least that hadn’t changed. 

He unraveled the most recent message from Ron and Hermione. _They’re lucky they get to be together right now_ , he thought, and immediately felt guilty. _He_ was lucky that he wasn’t infected. Despite the tight quarantine, the disease had continued to spread over the last week. 

Her message contained more information on the disease, dubbed _coronis virosum_ based on the charm used to diagnose it, but all Harry cared about was why he had to be paired with Malfoy, of all people. It didn’t seem fair. _Why do I always get the short end of the stick?_

> _I know you hate it, Harry, but the truth is, you and Malfoy being paired together is for the best. The disease seems to be most contagious between two people of very different magical auras. You and Malfoy obviously have similar magical signatures—I mean, you used his wand without much difficulty. Your auras are similar and very compatible, so even if one of you gets infected, the other isn’t likely to catch it._

Harry groaned inwardly, his face heating up. He wasn’t raised pureblood, of course, but even _he_ knew that having compatible auras was a pretty intimate thing. He did _not_ want to think of the implications of that. 

Hermione’s mention of Draco’s wand made him remember something—he still _had_ Draco’s old wand in his trunk. Sure, Draco _had_ a new one, but that didn’t mean Harry shouldn’t give it back. It’s not like Harry had any use for it. 

He’d give it back, but not right now. No, his face was still far too red. He’d wait for his blush to go away first. 

* * *

Harry curled his hands into fists, letting his anger wash over him, counting to five before he responded. Draco was just trying to get a rise out of him—Harry’s messiness was simply an easy target.

“ _Listen_ , Potter,” Draco spoke when Harry didn’t say anything, “I know you’re used to people cleaning up after you, and all—”

“ _Seriously?_ You’re the one who grew up with a horde of house elves!”

Draco ignored him. “But you see, _here,_ you actually have to look after your things.”

Harry looked around at the floor, where a few of his robes were strewn. It really wasn’t _that_ bad, in his opinion. Okay, there were also textbooks and parchment on their shared kitchen table…and library books scattered across his desk... but _really,_ it’d only take a few seconds to clean up.

“I bet you had those muggles of yours so well trained, they were like _perfect little house elves_ ,” Draco sneered, “always doting on _Harry Potter_ —”

“You want clean?” Harry snapped. “ _Fine.”_ He flicked his hand, and an invisible wind breezed through the room, scooping up his various belongings and depositing them to their respective homes. “ _There._ Happy?”

Draco frowned as Harry stomped over to the table to eat his lunch. “What spell was that?” 

“What do you mean?” Harry muttered, “I didn’t use a spell.”

“Did you—did you even use your _wand?”_ Draco blinked, trying to recall if he’d seen Harry with his wand.

Harry scowled. “No,” he said shortly, biting into a sandwich.

“You know that isn’t _normal,_ right?”

“Fantastic, why don’t you just add it to the _list_?”

"You really are quite the enigma, aren’t you?” Draco laughed at him, “I mean, you’ve got parseltongue, your patronus, passing out in front of dementors, and wandless magic _without_ an incantation—you sure are some freak, Potter.”

“Don’t call me that,” Harry said suddenly, straightening his back.

Draco raised his eyebrow at the reaction. _Perfect._ “You seem rather defensive,” he said idly, “probably because you _are_ a freak—”

“I said _stop.”_

“—you’ve just got a lot of _freaky_ stuff—”

“ _Shut up!”_ Harry whipped around in his seat to glare at Draco, the glass in his hand shattering. He stood up suddenly, swiftly vanishing the broken glass with another flick of his wrist. He didn’t have an appetite anymore. Maybe if he retreated to his desk, Draco would stop talking to him.

It didn’t work.

“Don’t you think that was a _bit_ of an overreaction?” Harry couldn’t see, but Draco’s face had morphed into one of concern, probably wondering _why_ , exactly, Harry had reacted so badly.

He didn’t turn around this time. “Don’t you think you should _listen_ when someone tells you not to call them something?” He asked testily.

Draco tilted his head. “Fair enough.” He waited for a response that never came. “That was accidental magic, wasn’t it?”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged.

There was a long, guilty silence. Draco had to do _something._ He did feel bad, after all. “Once, my father wouldn’t stop fussing with my hair before a dinner party, so I kept changing my hair color to make him mad,” he offered.

Harry snorted. “You could do accidental magic on _purpose_?”

“Well, it’s not _accidental_ then, is it?” Draco scoffed. “You never did magic on purpose?”

Harry turned around, forgetting that he was supposed to be angry. “I didn’t even _know_ I had magic,” he pointed out. “I just knew that weird things happened to me, and they always got me in trouble. So even if I _did_ know, I don’t think I would’ve tried it.”

“They got you in _trouble?_ But everyone knows that you can’t control it—well, I guess not if you’re a muggle.”

“Oh, they knew I had magic,” Harry said grudgingly, “but that didn’t matter to them. Once, I got suspended for climbing on the roof of the school. My cousin and his friends were chasing me, and it was either _run_ , or get hit,” he sighed. “Then I just… _appeared_ on the roof. Another time, I accidentally freed a snake at the zoo. I got—” _Shit, how am I supposed to say ‘I got locked in the cupboard for that?’_ Harry thought frantically. “I got grounded for that one,” he finished.

“Wait, hang on,” Draco stared at him. “You just _appeared_ on the roof? Like, you didn’t _fly_ or something?”

Harry frowned. “No,” he said. “I was on the ground, and a split second later, I was on the roof. I didn’t even blink.”

“You’re telling me,” Draco stared at him in disbelief, “that you _accidentally apparated?_ How _old_ were you?” 

“Uh, maybe eight?” he guessed. “Why does it matter?”

“Uh, because there’s a _reason_ they don’t teach apparition until you’re sixteen,” Draco replied. “Your magic isn’t developed or strong enough to handle it. And you did it when you were _eight?”_ He shook his head. “Bloody hell, you’re lucky you didn’t get splinched.”

“If I did, they would’ve found a way to blame me for that, too,” Harry said bitterly. The conversation grew tense as Harry closed up again— _I’ve said too much._

Draco was about to respond, but he stopped himself as he caught a glimpse of Harry’s right hand, which was still curled into a fist. “Are you—are you _bleeding?”_

Harry stretched out his palm, revealing where the broken glass had sliced through his skin, and stared apathetically at the clotting blood. “I guess I am,” he pulled out his wand and muttered a healing spell under his breath.

“Why would they blame you for getting splinched?” Draco’s stomach churned as he watched Harry’s skin fuse back together, but Harry didn’t even flinch.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Of _course_ it’s a big deal—” he started to say, but Harry had already turned back to his desk.

* * *

Harry waited until Draco was out of the shower to get out of bed the next morning. When he did, he hurried into the bathroom, hoping Draco wouldn’t comment on it.

Blessedly, his silencing charms had yet to fail thus far. Sometimes, during particularly bad nightmares, Harry’s magic would disrupt the charm and cause it to fail. He learned this the hard way, when Ron woke him in the middle of the night after hearing his screams.

From that night on, his dorm mates ensured that Harry didn’t use the charms so they could wake him up from them. He was grateful, of course. But thankfully, Draco didn’t know about this, so it was back to silencing charms for him. 

Harry shut the door behind him, quickly turning on the shower to muffle the sob that escaped him. He _hated_ crying. Nowadays, nightmares were always followed by tears, and all it did was remind Harry of the nights spent in the cupboard, muffling his tears so as to not wake his relatives. 

He scrubbed his scalp with shampoo, trying to get the nightmare out of his head. It would be forgotten within a few hours, but the emotions that it brought would linger.. Harry finished his shower, but stayed under the water for a few extra minutes, letting the hot water wash over his shaking body. He pressed on the sides of his nose, trying to drain out any remaining tears and remove any sign of crying. A glamour charm wouldn’t work, as his wand was still under his pillow in the other room—his wandless magic was too inconsistent for that. Turning on the cold tap, he stood with his face directly in the spray of water to reduce any swelling. 

Once out of the shower, he got dressed and ran a flannel under some cold water, pressing it to his eyes. When he looked in the mirror, he schooled his face into a neutral expression. No, you couldn’t tell he’d been crying at all.

Harry left the bathroom, ignoring the breakfast spread on the table and instead headed for his desk. He had a pile of schoolwork he’d been neglecting, after all. If he concentrated hard enough, maybe he could forget about the nightmare entirely.

Draco watched him as he moved across the room. “That was quite a long shower, wasn’t it, Potter?” Draco commented from where he sat at the table.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Spending some _quality time_ in there, are we?” He took a delicate sip of pumpkin juice. 

“Just leave me _alone_ ,” Harry could feel the tips of his ears turn red. Better for Draco to think he was doing _that_ rather than knowing the truth. “I’m _trying_ to study.”

“Oh right, better not disturb perfect Potter,” Draco drawled. “Of course, he’s going to get good marks regardless, whether he deserves it or not. After all, he’s—”

“Just shut up, will you?” Harry snapped, turning around to glare at Draco. “I never _asked_ for any of it.” He turned back to his desk, hunching over his blank parchment and open textbook.

“Oh but you _did_ , didn’t you? Ever since first year, you’ve gone _out of your way_ to draw attention to yourself. You’ve always wanted to be crowned the hero—”

Harry’s quill broke in his hand. “People were _dying_ , Malfoy,” he ground out. “I know _you_ wouldn’t have done the same, but I _did_ have a valid reason.”

“Right, I’m sure you have the perfect excuse for all of it, don’t you?” Draco goaded. “Here comes perfect Potter, savior of the day yet again—”

“ _Stop_ calling me perfect,” Harry snarled. He doubted Draco knew the _real_ reason for any of his stunts throughout the years. Not that he was willing to share it, of course, but Harry’s resolve was beginning to break with every word. As usual, Harry’s reaction only encouraged Draco. 

“But that’s what you _are_ , aren’t you?” He sneered, “Perhaps you’re just feeling guilty, knowing that you’ve never _actually_ done anything substantial enough to deserve it—”

“You’re right, okay? I _don’t_ deserve it.” Harry’s self control broke. “Until the age of eleven, I thought I was a—a _freak_ . I believed that I was the worst human being on earth and that I deserved everything that came to me. And then I’m suddenly introduced to this wonderful world full of—of people who love and care about me, but I can’t even _remember_ the thing I did to earn it. Then, it turns out that I’m a freak here, too. The whole wizarding world turns against me and I’m back to square one. So yeah, I feel guilty. I feel _guilty_ because I’ve never, in my entire life, felt _good_ about myself, much less _perfect._ ”

As soon as it was out, Harry wanted to die. He faced his desk again and forced himself to read his textbook, trying to focus on the next sentence. _‘These ingredients will have this effect if they’re of magical origin, though non-magical sources can be activated by ambient magical energy. These ingredients will have this effect if they’re of magical origin—’_

Meanwhile, Draco felt like he’d been slapped. In fact, it would’ve been better if Harry had _actually_ slapped him. Then, he would be able to laugh it off, maybe insult him again, and move on. But in this case, he was left with the terrible thought that Harry’s reaction to his taunts were probably never what they seemed to be. 

“Why—” Draco swallowed. Yesterday, Harry exploded a glass when Draco had called him a… “Why did you think you were a freak?” He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear the answer.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But—”

“I _said_ I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry stood from his desk abruptly, nearly overturning the chair. He shoved his blank parchment in between the book’s pages and headed for his bed, roughly closing the drapes around him. Sitting on top of his bed sheets, he reapplied his silencing charm and focused on his breathing. 

Then the walls were closing in around him, squeezing the air out of his lungs—he gasped, acid spilling into his blood as he struggled to inhale, suffocating in the darkness. _I’m fine. I can handle this. I deal with it at night, and I can deal with it now._

This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him, unfortunately. Since the war ended, Harry had found himself getting claustrophobic—in the bathroom, in a walk-in closet, and _especially_ in his bed. He put up with it, of course, because closing the curtains meant he could use silencing charms. He had to admit, though, that he was relieved when Ron found about the charms and made him promise to stop—without them, there was no reason for him to shut the curtains at night.

Harry tried again to focus on his homework, forcing himself to pay attention. It wasn’t until he was halfway through the chapter that he realized that Draco had, once again, made his bed while he was in the shower.

* * *

“Seriously? _Again?”_

Harry tossed his quill to the side as he stood to retrieve Hedwig from the window. 

“How am I supposed to concentrate with your damn owl tapping the window every five minutes?” Draco continued. It was the first thing he’d said all day—they hadn’t spoken since Harry’s outburst yesterday morning.

Harry was about to respond that he had just as much of a right to owl mail as Draco did, when he realized that Draco hadn’t sent _or_ received a single letter since they’d been quarantined. 

“Well, why haven’t _you_ sent anything?” He shot back. “I’d have thought that you’d get at least _something_ by _now_.”

“Look around you, Potter,” Draco said dryly. “Do you see a spare owl lying around?”

“Oh,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. How had he not noticed that Hedwig was the only owl? “You don’t have your own owl?”

Draco bit back the insult that bubbled to the surface and shrugged. “I can’t exactly _nip down_ to Diagon Alley to buy one, can I? Not without being mobbed. Owls aren’t offered by mail order, either.”

Harry frowned. What are the students without owls supposed to do for communication during this quarantine? Surely _someone_ had thought of that. “You could borrow Hedwig, if you’d like,” he offered, remembering what it was like to be unable to send or receive letters. 

Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise before looking away. “No. She’d be gone for too long. Pansy and Blaise transferred to Beauxbatons, and the Manor isn’t exactly a block over."

By now, Harry was scribbling a response to Ron and Hermione. “That’s alright. I’ll just send this real quick, and you can send something when she comes back.” Before Draco even answered, Harry added to the note that he was letting him borrow Hedwig, and to not expect a response until the morning. 

Draco frowned into his book before finally giving a minute nod. “Alright.” 

A moment later, Draco looked up when something was shoved in his face. Harry stood in front of Draco’s armchair, his hair back-lit by the fireplace. It took Draco a minute to focus his eyes on the wand in Harry’s outstretched hand. _His_ wand. 

“What—” Draco stared in confusion before gingerly placing his hand around the handle. Harry was holding it by the point—which, to wizards, was a major show of trust—or _stupidity_.

Draco smiled softly as the wand responded to his magic. His magic didn’t like his new wand all that much—they didn’t _mesh_ very well. Its components were pretty similar to his original one, but not exact. 

“I didn’t think you still had it.”

Harry shrugged. “I forgot, honestly. I wouldn’t have gotten rid of it, regardless.”

“Thank you,” Draco breathed. A weight seemed to have lifted off his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a tap at the window. Hedwig, again. 

“Don’t mention it,” Harry replied as he opened the window for Hedwig. Draco didn’t know why he even bothered with the window if he was opening and closing it every five minutes. Harry untied the message from Hedwig’s leg and set her in her cage, leaving the door open. “She’s all yours.”

Draco nodded and started drafting a letter. “Thanks.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Why are you angry all the time?” All Harry had asked was if Draco was done with his lunch—which definitely didn’t warrant whatever Draco had grumbled under his breath. 

Draco frowned, looking up from his textbook. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. Usually when he lashed out at Harry, he got an equally harsh response. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. 

“It’s exhausting being angry all the time,” Harry continued. 

“It’s all I ever feel, nowadays,” Draco responded softly, raising his eyebrows as the words left his lips. He hadn’t given it much thought over the past few months, but as soon as he said it, he knew it to be true. He really was just feeling  _ numb _ . The only time he didn’t feel empty was when he was angry. 

“I get it,” Harry replied simply. He snorted when Draco looked up, surprised. “What, don’t you remember fifth year? I was pissed at  _ everything _ . At myself, Umbridge, Dumbledore,  _ everyone _ . By the end of the year, I just felt numb.”

“How—how’d you stop?” 

“A lot of stuff has happened since fifth year, you know?” he sighed, “I had to put that aside to deal with everything else that had gone to shit. And  _ now _ —I understand more, I guess. Voldemort’s gone, and I’ve forgiven Dumbledore. Umbridge… well, I don’t think I’ll ever get over  _ her. _ I had so much to do last year, and I had the help of my friends. As awful of a distraction that was, it still was a distraction.” He didn’t add that he could never be  _ truly _ emotionless, as long as he was plagued by his nightmares.

Draco pursed his lips. “Interesting.” Regardless of all of the information Harry had just spilled,  _ he _ wasn’t going to be so stupid. He had self control, thank you very much. 

There was a long, awkward pause, as Draco hadn’t exactly contributed anything to continue the conversation. 

“Truce?” Harry blurted out finally, wincing at how loudly he’d spoken. 

“Hmm?” Draco was much quieter by comparison.

“I—I mean, we’re gonna be stuck in here for awhile, so it’d be kinda easier if we called a truce… what?” Harry trailed off as Draco stared at him, an eyebrow raised. 

Draco snorted. “You know  _ nothing _ of wizard etiquette, do you?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Er… no? Raised by muggles, remember?” 

Draco rolled his eyes. Of  _ course _ he remembered—he remembered  _ everything _ about Harry Potter. That didn’t mean he was going to excuse Harry of his shortcomings. 

“You already  _ called _ a truce, you dunderhead,” Draco drawled. “You called a truce when you gave me my wand back.”

“I… oh,” Harry smiled in understanding. “Well… okay then. That works.” 

Draco chuckled to himself, returning to his textbook. It wasn’t until a few pages later that he realized,  _ maybe I’m not feeling  _ quite _ so numb anymore.  _

* * *

“This is so  _ boring,” _ Harry shoved his essay aside and flopped onto his bed.

“I doubt you’ve finished all your homework,” Draco muttered. He was  _ this _ close to closing his bed curtains and casting a silencing charm on them.

“I have!” Harry responded indignantly. “Okay  _ fine,” _ he added when Draco raised an eyebrow, “I still have potions, but I don’t understand it!”

“…did you do the reading?”

Harry flushed. “No,” he grumbled. “I can’t concentrate on it. I don’t know why, I just  _ can’t  _ learn from reading textbooks.”

Draco huffed. “Has _ no one _ shown you a concentration charm?” Harry’s blank face was enough of an answer. “It’s literally just ‘ _ intendere’ _ . It’ll help you focus.” 

“Is that what  _ you _ do?”

“No,  _ Potter. _ ” He rolled his eyes. “I have the self control to  _ sit still  _ for an hour and do my damn homework.” He smiled as Harry swore under his breath and cast the charm. 

The silence lasted a full, blissful hour.  _ “Now _ what?” Harry flopped down on his bed, yet again. “Now I don’t even have  _ homework _ to do.” 

“Right, my bad,” Draco looked up from his textbook. “I forgot you’d be mourning your separation from your weasel girlfriend, so I didn’t  _ prepare any activities _ to keep you  _ entertained. _ ”

Harry flushed, missing the underlying insult. “Ginny and I aren’t together, and don’t call her that!”

“Bullshit,” Draco retorted. “You’re gonna sit there and tell me that you two were  _ never _ together?”

“No,  _ really, _ we’re  _ not _ ,” he protested. “Not anymore. It just didn’t work out, and Ginny had to break it off because I was too chicken,” he paused. “What about you and Parkinson?”

Draco made a face. “Merlin, no.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Really? You don’t like her at  _ all? _ You guys are always together.”

Draco’s face twisted into an unreadable expression. “I’m  _ gay _ , you asshole,” he said bitterly.

“I—oh.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “ _ …oh _ .”

“Have a problem with that?” 

“No, I just… didn’t think about that.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I just kinda… forgot?”

“Forgot  _ what,  _ that gay people exist?”

“Yeah, well…” Harry paused, thinking hard. “Growing up… my aunt and uncle were  _ wildly _ homophobic. I guess I kind of... blocked it out?” 

Draco snorted. “Right. That sounds like something you’d do.”

“Hey!” Harry said indignantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re  _ never _ cognizant of others—or  _ anything _ , really.”

Harry flushed. “Yeah, I know,” he said guiltily. How many people had he been insensitive to? Hermione, Cho, Remus… his eyes widened.  _ Shit.  _ Harry’s stomach dropped. “You’re—you’re talking about sixth year,” he stuttered.

Draco turned to hide his face, but otherwise didn’t answer.

“Malfoy I’m—I’m really sorry. I never wanted to—I was completely out of line and—”

“It’s  _ fine,  _ Potter,” Draco cut him off. “I deserved it, anyways,” he muttered under his breath.

“ _ What? _ No it’s  _ not _ , and you didn’t—"

“Drop it, Potter.”

“ _ No one  _ deserves—”

“ _ I said drop it, Potter,” _ Draco snapped, and Harry finally fell silent. He watched Draco close the curtains around his bed, followed by the unnerving stillness of a silencing charm.

* * *

“What the hell are you doing?” 

Harry looked up from where he sat on the floor, leaning against his bed. In the two hours that had passed since Draco shut himself behind his curtains, Harry had passed the time by staring into space, thinking. As he was getting used to the confinement, he was slipping into the same behaviors he used to pass time in his cupboard. “Nothing,” he said finally

Draco rolled his eyes as he headed for the bathroom.

“How do you know?” Harry asked when Draco finally returned.

“What?” He swiped an apple from the leftover food tray and took a bite.

“How do you know you’re gay?”

Draco flushed and took his time chewing. “You’re  _ still  _ thinking about that?”

Harry only shrugged.

Draco huffed and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Well, how do you know you’re straight?”

“Uh.. girls are pretty, I guess?”

“You’re not convincing me,” he said dryly.

“I don’t know!” Harry burst out, throwing his arms up. “I’ve kind of been distracted by this whole  _ savior _ thing my whole life!”

“Easy, Potter, no ones accusing you of playing for the other team,” Draco rolled his eyes. Of course  _ Harry Potter _ would have something against gay people. Why  _ wouldn’t  _ he?

Harry didn’t answer. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. How  _ did _ he know he was straight? It had always felt… right? But maybe that’s because it was expected. He squeezed his eyes shut.  _ Do I feel that way about guys? _

* * *

The next week passed without incident. Well,  _ mostly _ . The only form of structure Harry had in his life was his schoolwork and the letters Hermione was making him write. Aside from their usual back and forth, Hermione was making him and Ron write detailed accounts of their day: what they ate, studied, the conversations they had, et cetera. As much as Harry didn’t want to admit it, it was kind of helping. 

Writing everything down kept the days from blending together. It was much easier to remember how long ago Tuesday was if you remembered that Tuesday was the day you finished your Charms essay. 

_ Alright, ‘Mione. Here’s my daily recap: _

  * > _Ate toast_

  * > _Took a shower after Malfoy finished hogging the bathroom_

  * > _Did reading for transfiguration and potions_

  * > _Ate some cheese for lunch_

  * > _Tried to start potions essay_

  * > _Actually started transfigurations essay_

  * > _Read_

  * > _Writing letter to you and Ron_




Hermione was sending him books, too. Once Harry resorted to reading for entertainment, he found that he actually  _ enjoyed _ the muggle novels. He hadn’t got much exposure to reading growing up, because, well, Dudley hated books. For that reason, Harry was  _ really _ slow at it. 

_ Also, I finally finished  _ Hidden Tones.  _ Honestly Hermione, I can’t read that fast. I only finished the first one and you’ve sent five total, so you don’t have to keep sending more! I appreciate you giving me options, though. I’m going to start another now, so bye for now. _

Harry examined the parchment and frowned. Hermione wasn’t exaggerating when she said his handwriting was atrocious.  _ Maybe I should work on that. _

Despite the fact that the letters were to keep each other updated with their lives, Harry hadn’t mentioned Draco in any of them— _ especially  _ not the  _ gay _ thing. He’d been thinking about it all week, but if he asked them for help figuring out his sexuality, they might asking how the topic came up. That would mean telling them about Draco—Harry didn’t know a lot, but he knew  _ that _ wasn’t cool.

Once the ink had dried, he rolled up the parchment and sent it off with Hedwig before grabbing another novel at random. He settled down in the armchair by the fire, opening to the first page without even looking at the cover.

“What are you  _ reading _ ?” Draco was curled up in the other armchair, staring at the book in Harry’s hands in astonishment. 

“Uh, a  _ book? _ What does it look like?” Harry turned the book around to look at the cover.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I know what a book  _ looks like, _ Potter. I just hope you know that you’re reading a gay novel.” 

“What? Really?” He flipped it over to read the summary on the back cover. Sure enough, the plot centered around a teenager discovering his sexuality. “Hang on—” Harry stood and grabbed the other books Hermione had sent, inspecting their covers and summaries closely. “They’re  _ all _ like that,” he said, handing one to Draco.

Did Hermione just  _ happen _ to send him books with gay main characters, or was it a coincidence? After all, surely not  _ all _ gay books are about the characters being gay… right?

Harry laughed nervously. “You think she’s trying to tell me something?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Like what, tell you that you’re gay? Wouldn’t you know that more than her?”

At this point, Harry wasn’t so sure. “Well… it’s like what you said the other day. I’m oblivious.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’d you say?”

“I said,  _ ‘well, everyone knows that,’ _ ” Draco said clearly.

“Hey!” Harry snatched the book out of his hand and sat back down in the armchair. “Hang on, how’d you even recognize this? It’s muggle.”

Draco only smirked. “Why don’t you just read your book? I wouldn’t want to thwart any _self_ _discoveries.”_

Harry flushed, hiding his face behind the book while he struggled to focus on the words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to yall who told me that i accidentally posted chapter II again instead of chapter III, oops

_ “He moans into my mouth and shoves me against the wall as I bite his lower lip, electricity arcing through my body. His hips grind against mine and I reach between us to stroke—” _

_ What the fuck? _ Harry threw the book aside and jumped up, his heart beating in his throat as he rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.  _ What the hell  _ was _ that? _ He stared at himself in the mirror and tried to calm his breathing.

“Uh, what just happened?” Draco’s voice called from outside the bathroom, and Harry could hear the creak of his bed as he stood up.

Harry was pressing his fingers to his cheeks to try and reduce the redness when he heard the rustle of paper come from the other room.  _ Shit. _

“Hmm,  _ I _ get it now,” Draco was paging through the book, a sinister smile on his face. “Yeah, I remember this part,” he cleared his throat,  _ “his hands are tangled in my hair as he pushes me to my knees, and I easily unzip his jeans to free his—” _

“Oh my god,  _ stop! _ ” Harry rushed forward and ripped the book out of Draco’s hands before he could read another word.

“Oh  _ please, _ just let yourself enjoy it,” Draco rolled his eyes, “You’re  _ clearly _ worked up, just have a wank and be done with it.”

“ _ W—what?” _ Harry stammered, his face becoming uncomfortably warm. “I can’t—I’m  _ not _ —”

“Right, right, you’re not  _ gay _ because you like  _ girls.” _ He rolled his eyes when Harry nodded. “Merlin you’re such an idiot,” he looked to the ceiling in exasperation, “has anyone ever told you that you can like  _ both?” _

Harry blanched. “What? What do you mean?”

Draco shut his eyes and rubbed his temples.  _ How did I fall for someone so stupid? _ “You can be attracted to both guys  _ and _ girls, Potter. You don’t  _ have  _ to choose.”

Harry swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was a long, awkward pause as Draco waited for a response, but he didn’t exactly get one. When Harry finally unfroze, it was to sprint to the bathroom after announcing, “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Have fun in there,” Draco called through the door and laughed when Harry responded with a string of curses.

* * *

Harry finished drying his hair and crept out of the bathroom, trying to be quiet so that—

“So did you enjoy your  _ shower? _ ”

_ Damn it.  _ “It was fine,” Harry muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm, I bet,” Draco idly flipped a page in his book, “Did you finally relieve that  _ tension?” _ He looked up and grinned when Harry spluttered. “ _ Merlin _ , Potter, guys can talk about wanking, it’s  _ normal.” _

“ _ Is _ it?” Harry squeaked. The other Gryffindor boys certainly never talked about it. He shook his head and tried to distract himself with some lunch.

“You sure are easy to work up,” Draco grinned at him, “have you ever even  _ kissed _ anyone?”

“I have!” Harry answered indignantly, “Ginny and I kissed lots of times.”

“Did you do anything  _ else?” _ he raised an eyebrow.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “No.”

Draco scoffed. “Who knew the Chosen One was such a  _ prude _ ?”

“Hey!” Harry grabbed an apple and threw it at Draco, but he caught it easily and took a bite out of it. “Wait,” Harry said, “does that mean you have?”

Draco took a minute to finish chewing, and Harry took the brief moment of peace to pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice, taking a long sip as Draco started speaking. “Of course I have.  _ Listen, _ I know you’ve got this whole  _ I’m not gay _ thing going on,” he gestured to Harry, before smirking, his eyes taking on a wicked glint, “but sucking dick is actually quite enjoyable.”

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice.  _ “What?” _

“You heard me,” he answered proudly, “it wasn’t exactly  _ average, _ but don’t worry. Your first time will be normal, I’m sure.”

Harry coughed, still trying to clear the pumpkin juice from his lungs, and narrowed his eyes. “Am I going to regret asking  _ why _ it wasn’t  _ ‘average’?” _

“Probably,” Draco shrugged, “but if you _must_ know, it took him _two_ _hours_ to finish. I took it like a champ, of course, even if my jaw _was_ quite sore by the end.”

_ “Two hours?”  _ Harry grimaced at the thought of keeping his jaw open for that long. His jaw was permanently messed up from one-too-many punches as a kid—courtesy of Dudley—which made his jaw crack and pop every time he moved it. Having it open for that long, especially with the added movement that came with— _ stop thinking about it! _ Harry told himself frantically,  _ stop thinking about sucking dick! _

“Personally, I think his dick was broken.” Draco took another bite of his apple.

“How do you know you weren’t just really bad at it?” Harry asked, and he smirked when Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Believe me, I wasn’t,” Draco assured him, “But,” he added, batting his eyelashes at Harry dramatically, “if you don’t believe me, I could always give you a  _ demonstration.” _

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry muttered, Draco’s resulting laugh ringing in his ears. 

* * *

Harry wasn’t in his bed when he woke the next morning. He opened his eyes to find himself sprawled across one of the armchairs, an open book tossed haphazardly onto the floor.  _ Right, _ Harry thought,  _ I must’ve fallen asleep while reading. _ He’d intended to finish the book while Draco was sleeping to avoid any more  _ incidents _ ; he'd just have to read the rest tonight _. _ His mouth was dry and scratchy, as if he’d slept with it open all night.

He turned his head at the sound of tea being poured. “Morning,” he said to Draco, who stood at their kitchen table.

“Good morning,” he answered back, not even sneering  _ or  _ smiling evilly while handing Harry the cup of tea.

“Thanks?” Harry said in confusion as he accepted the cup. “Why are you bringing me tea?”

Draco stood still for a minute, shuffling his feet before flopping into the armchair beside Harry. “You had a nightmare.”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face.  _ Shit. _ “I did?” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I guess that means I woke you up.”

Draco nodded, his expression unreadable. “It—it sounded like a bad one.”

“Did it?” Harry frowned, “I don’t even remember it.” The milder nightmares usually didn’t come back to him until later in the day, oddly enough.

“Not even a little?” Draco looked doubtful.

“Not even a little.” Harry stood, grasping his tea. Nightmares weren’t exactly his favorite topic.

A hand grabbed his wrist before he could turn away. “Do you talk to anyone about them?” Draco asked in a soft voice.

Harry sighed, sitting back down. “Ron and Hermione, I guess…sometimes we have similar nightmares.”

Draco swallowed uncomfortably, studying his hands in his lap. “Do you—do you always scream?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry raised his eyebrows.  _ Right, normal people don’t scream during their nightmares. _ “Yes,” he said with a sigh, “always.”

He furrowed his brow. “But I—”

“Silencing charms,” Harry said wearily, taking a large sip of tea and closing his eyes as the hot liquid burnt its way down his oesophagus. “I always use silencing charms. Well, except for when I pass out while reading,” he snorted.

Draco didn’t laugh. “Don’t use those anymore.  _ Please _ ."

Harry would’ve protested if it wasn’t for the pleading look on Draco’s face. “Fine,” his shoulders slumped, “but I’m not kidding when I say it’s  _ every night. _ There’s a reason I use them.”

He shook his head. “I don’t give a  _ damn _ , Potter, no one should have to use  _ silencing charms _ for their bloody  _ nightmares. _ ”

“Do you—do you have nightmares, then?” Harry asked suddenly. After all, if  _ he _ had to spill some secrets, Harry deserved to hear some in return.

“Yeah, I guess,” Draco shifted, “but not as bad as yours.”

“But they’re still nightmares,” he pointed out. 

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, but I rarely wake up from them, and it’s always the same dumb shit. The Dark Lord at my kitchen table. The Dark Lord  _ crucioing _ my father, or my mother, or  _ me. _ It never changes.”

“I get those, too,” Harry sighed, “the  _ crucio _ ,” he added. “Except sometimes  _ I’m  _ Voldemort, or it’s  _ me _ casting it on—on someone I love.” He stood from his chair. “I’ll need more tea if I’m going to discuss all of this  _ trauma, _ ” he tried for a laugh as he went to pour himself another cup.

"I dream about Dumbledore." Harry barely heard the murmured admission. 

Harry stiffened, setting down the teapot. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed another cup and poured one for Draco, too. He handed it to him wordlessly as he returned to his seat, cradling his cup in his lap.

"You didn't kill him." Harry said finally.

"I may as well have," Draco answered bitterly, "he'd still be alive if it wasn't for—”

Harry shook his head, suddenly realizing how little Draco knew of the whole situation. "No, that's the thing," he said, "Dumbledore  _ knew _ you were tasked with killing him. He  _ knew, _ and he also knew you wouldn't do it." He held his hand up when Draco opened his mouth to protest. "Which is why he made Snape promise to do it instead."

Draco stared at Harry in disbelief, his mouth falling open in shock before he deliberately closed it. "He  _ what?"  _

He nodded grimly. "Dumbledore carefully planned every single moment of that night."

"But I—" Draco shook his head. "I still disarmed him. I still  _ let him die. _ "

Harry took a long sip of tea. "He was dead long before we made it to the tower."

_ "We?"  _ Draco narrowed his eyes. 

"We." Harry repeated. "We went on a mission that night—Dumbledore and I—to retrieve something that was important to ending Voldemort. The thing is, it was heavily warded, and we couldn't reach it until one of us drank this potion." He drew a long breath and looked up at Draco. "You may have disarmed him, but I was the one who poured poison down his throat. He made me promise to do that, too."

Harry waited for a response, but when he didn't get one, he decided to continue. "My point is that I was  _ there.  _ In the tower, when you and Snape were. If Dumbledore  _ really  _ didn't mean to die, he would've let me help. He wouldn't have left me petrified under my Invisibility Cloak so that I could do nothing but  _ watch _ ,” he added, shivering at the memory.

Draco loosed a shuddering sigh and dropped his head. "Fine," he muttered. "Thanks." 

He nodded. "I  _ am _ glad you didn't kill him, to be honest." Draco stared at him in confusion, and Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "Because if you had killed him, Voldemort would've known you were the master of the Elder Wand. And then he would've killed you."

"Oh," Draco said in a small voice, "you're—you're glad he didn't kill me?"

"Of course," Harry shrugged. "So," he added casually, "any  _ other _ trauma you'd like to discuss?"

Draco's head snapped up to see an amused smile on Harry's face. "I think that's enough for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ends a bit abruptly IMO but i hope its still enjoyable :)


	4. Chapter 4

Harry’s head fell onto the desk with a  _ smack.  _ “Oh,  _ bollocks _ ,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Oh, er,” Harry turned in his chair to face Draco. “I forgot to ask Hermione to explain Fixation for my essay before,  _ well _ ,” he nodded towards the window, through which Draco had just sent Hedwig with a letter.

“Hmm,” Draco straightened his shoulders, not seeming to care much. “Well, don’t look at  _ me _ . I’m not taking that Ancient Magic bullshit.”

Harry sighed. He  _ really _ couldn’t finish his essay without understanding the concept, and the textbook wasn’t helping much. “Oh! I know,” he pulled his wand from his pocket and cast  _ expecto patronum _ without a second thought, producing his usual stag patronus.

Draco’s eyes practically bugged out of his skull, but thankfully Harry didn’t notice. Draco had forgotten that Harry could cast a corporeal patronus.  _ No, that’s not true; _ Draco didn’t  _ forget _ anything about Harry Potter. He’d only forgotten how  _ impressive _ it looked.

_ “Missurae nuncius,”  _ Harry spoke another charm, and the stag tilted its head, listening carefully. “Hermione, could you explain fixation to me when you have time? I can’t figure out when you’re supposed to use solvolysis versus tosylation, and the book isn’t helping  _ at all.  _ It doesn’t even say anything about the different types of eluents, either. Also, sorry about the patronus. I forgot to ask you before I let Malfoy borrow Hedwig.” Harry spoke one last charm to send the stag to Hermione.

“Was that  _ really _ necessary?” Draco was watching him, an eyebrow raised.

“What? What are you talking about?” Harry didn’t know what there was to  _ be  _ embarrassed about, but he flushed nevertheless.

“You used a full on patronus message for  _ homework? _ Why waste the energy?”

Now Harry was confused. “What are you talking about? Patronuses take hardly energy once you got the hang of it.”

Draco knew for a fact that  _ no, they don’t, _ but he didn’t feel like delving into the topic. Instead, he used this opportunity to an answer he’d had since third year. “Okay, here’s what I don’t understand,” Draco said. “Why did you always  _ faint _ from the dementors?” he asked. “I honestly thought you were faking until you passed out during quidditch.”

Harry huffed. “Let me guess, you thought I was making it up for attention?” He thought Draco looked might have looked  _ guilty _ for a brief second, so he continued. “I mean, I’ve always assumed it’s because I have more… trauma than others,” he searched for the right word. “And for some reason, they always went for  _ me _ , so to me, it added up.”

Draco frowned, trying to recall that detail. “The quidditch match,” he said, “they were all looking at  _ you _ .”

“Right?” Harry threw his arms up. “Like, c’mon, you’re supposed to be looking for a  _ murderer, _ not chasing the  _ students… _ ” he trailed off, lost in the memory. “I remember when they surrounded me. All of a sudden, they were all staring like I’d grown two heads— _ oh, _ ” he breathed.

“Oh? Oh  _ what?” _ Draco demanded, but Harry was already casting a new patronus.

“Hermione!” Harry smacked his forehead. “How could I have been so  _ stupid— _ ”

“When are you  _ not?” _ Draco asked in the background, but he was ignored. 

“The dementors! They can _see_ _souls_ —they were always after me _because I had two souls!_ Okay, more like, an extra two percent soul—but they were probably trying to _get rid of it!”_

“ _ What the fuck?” _

Harry paused for a few seconds before casting the  _ send _ charm. He couldn’t believe it. What if the dementors managed to get rid of the horcrux? What happened if someone who was a horcrux got the Dementor’s Kiss, leaving  _ only the horcrux? _ He didn’t want to think about that.

“What the  _ hell _ , Potter?” Draco interrupted his thoughts. “Are you  _ high? _ What are you talking about,  _ two souls _ ?”

Harry watched him with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, a  _ stag _ caught in headlights. “Erm,” he said after a moment. “Would you believe me if I said that I  _ am _ high?” If he could convince Draco of  _ that _ , he wouldn’t have to explain this…

Predictably, Draco didn’t buy it.

“Okay, um.” How the hell would he explain this?  _ Hey, you know that evil wizard I killed last year? Turns out I had a piece of his soul attached to mine for eighteen years.  _

“Well… when Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, and the killing curse rebounded—a piece of his soul kind of… attached itself to mine?” Harry's voice raised into a squeak at the end.

Draco blanched. “You had a piece of Voldemort’s soul attached to you for  _ seventeen years?” _

Harry bit his lip and nodded. “Uh, not that many people know this, but Voldemort made—” he counted on his fingers, “six horcruxes—well, seven if you include me,” he paused, watching the blood drain from Draco’s face. 

“That’s what the prophecy meant,” Draco whispered, “‘ _ neither can live while the other survives’— _ I overheard Severus talking about it, once,” he added, when Harry looked confused. 

“Yeah.” Harry said quietly, “as long as his soul was there, he couldn’t die.”

“Which is why you let him kill you, and why you came back.” Draco shifted uncomfortably, “you—you knew you’d come back, right?”

Draco’s breath hitched in his throat when Harry shook his head. “No,” he answered, “I didn’t.”

“For what it’s worth,” Draco swallowed, “I’m glad you came back.” 

The tips of Harry’s ears reddened as he smiled. “Me, too,” he tilted his head to the side. “Hey, can you cast a patronus—I could teach you?” He added when Draco shook his head.

“I—” Draco frowned, “you don’t have to do that—”

“I  _ want _ to,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I  _ like _ teaching people—c’mon, just try it,”

“Okay,” he said uneasily, “what do I do?”

“You need to think of your happiest memory—immerse yourself in it, replay it in your mind, remember how it makes you feel—and then cast.”

“Alright,” Draco stood uneasily, gripping his wand, and paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.  _ “Expecto patronum! _

As expected, nothing happened. He screwed up his face, putting more magic into the spell this time. “E _ xpecto patronum! Expecto patronum! _ ”

“You won’t get it on the first time,” Harry said calmly, “but it will help to try out different memories until you find one that's strong enough."

_ “Expecto patronum!” _ Nothing happened. “I can’t do it,” Draco sighed, flopping into an armchair. “A patronus represents  _ good.  _ I’m a  _ Death Eater, _ there’s no way I can cast it.”

“You  _ were _ a Death Eater,” Harry corrected fiercely, causing Draco to look up in surprise. “Besides, I know for a  _ fact _ that your past isn’t thwarting the spell—you know why?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because when a wizard with an impure heart attempts the Patronus charm, maggots will spout from their wand instead,” Harry answered smugly, glad to finally know something that Draco didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true!” Harry insisted, “There was that Dark wizard—Raczidian, I think? He tried casting a patronus charm and was devoured by the maggots it created.”

“Okay,  _ fine. _ ” Draco sighed deeply and held his wand out, gripping the handle tightly.  _ "Expecto patronum!"  _ His wand spluttered, creating wispy white tendrils that vanished after a split second. 

Draco was dejected, but Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's really good, actually," he said, "usually it takes longer for  _ anything _ to happen."

"Really?" Draco looked doubtful.

"Try creating small circles with your wand as you cast," Harry suggested, "it helps concentrate the magic." He held his wand up to demonstrate. "No, smaller circles like this…"

* * *

Someone was shaking Harry's shoulder.

_ "Potter,"  _ a voice hissed, and he jerked awake, staring at the blurry silhouette that towered over him. 

"Hey," a smile spread across Harry's face when he got sight of Draco.

"Um, hi," he responded, dumbfounded. Harry Potter was  _ smiling  _ at him, like he was  _ happy  _ to see him. Like it wasn't the middle of the night, like Harry hadn't just woken from a horrible nightmare. His whole face lit up and his eyes crinkled until they nearly shut. "You, uh—" Draco cleared his throat. "You had a nightmare."

Draco immediately regretted saying anything when the smile vanished. Harry flopped his head back against his pillow as the nightmare came crashing back, flooding his mind with memories that Harry couldn't tell were real or not.

"What was—what was it about?" Draco asked nervously. 

Harry sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and blinking in the light of Draco’s  _ lumos maxima. _ He fumbled blindly for his glasses, only for them to be thrust into his hands. "Thanks," he mumbled, shoving them on his face and resting his head in his hands. Draco had asked him what his nightmare was about— _ how am I supposed to tell him it took place at his  _ house?

"It was—" Harry cleared his throat when his voice cracked. "It was at, um, your house. The Malfoy Manor. And Bellatrix was—was torturing Hermione. "

Draco carefully sat on the edge of the bed next to Harry and tentatively placed a hand on his back, and was surprised by how much his shoulder blades stuck out.

Harry tensed at first, from the foreign feeling that was physical comfort, but he quickly relaxed and loosed a shuddering sigh. "But Hermione, she—she didn't make it."

Draco nodded to show that he understood. "It wasn't real," he assured him, "she's alive and safe."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, but stood nevertheless. "I need to write her—just to be sure. I have to know that she's okay–"

"Potter, it's three in the morning," Draco grabbed Harry's quill out of his hand. "You'll wake her up."

Harry deflated. "I know," he closed his eyes for a moment, before perking up. "Hold on," he said suddenly, rushing to his trunk. Draco watched cautiously as Harry dug through his trunk before procuring a sheet of parchment. 

"I  _ just _ told you not to write her," Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm not—oh," he looked down at the blank parchment, then back at Draco. Only his closest friends knew about the map—it was one of so only things he had from Sirius, Remus and his father. 

_ I can trust him, _ Harry decided,  _ what is he going to do, report me to Umbridge? _

Draco watched as Harry unfolded the parchment and spread it across his bed. “Why didn’t you close your bed curtains?” he stared at the curtains that were pulled all the way to one side of the bed.

“Well, I’m—” Harry shifted nervously. “I’m not using silencing charms anymore… and the curtains make me claustrophobic, anyways. I don’t have a reason to use them if I’m not putting up silencing charms.”

“They make you claustrophobic?” Draco frowned. “Did they always do that?”

“Er, just after the war,” Harry shrugged, “I don’t know why.”  _ Yes, you do.  _ “Anyways, check this out.” He indicated towards the parchment, and Draco reluctantly dropped the subject. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he tapped the parchment with his wand and waited for the ink to appear. He quickly located the Gryffindor tower and breathed a sigh of relief when he located Hermione’s name in the girls’ dorm where she was quarantined.

“What the  _ bloody hell _ is this?”

“It’s called the Marauder’s Map,” Harry said with a small smile, “it’s a map that shows the location of everyone in the castle.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “This is how—” he looked down at the parchment and back up at Harry. “In sixth year! This is how you followed me around, isn’t it?” He pointed his finger accusingly. 

Harry flushed. “Er, sorry about that.”

“You know how many times—” Draco balled his hands into fists. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t blame you.”

“I thought you were up to something,” Harry admitted, “I’m sorry.”

“I  _ was _ up to something,” he pointed out, “I was  _ definitely _ up to something.”

“Ron and Hermione didn’t believe me,” he said, “so I resorted to using the Map.”

Draco frowned. “Why wouldn’t  _ they _ believe you? They’re your best friends.”

Harry ducked his head. “Um, it might have to do with the fact that I had been wrong every other time before that.”

He stared at him. “You thought I was up to something  _ every single year?” _

“Er, yeah,” he answered, “like, in second year, I thought you were the heir of Slytherin—”

_ “Me?” _ Draco exclaimed, “ _ you _ were the one talking to snakes!”

“I didn’t even know I was doing it until Ron and Hermione told me!” Harry protested, “I thought it was  _ normal _ to be able to understand snakes!”

Draco snickered. “What’s next, hm? Chocolate has healing powers? Animagi can speak to animals? Wait, don’t tell me—you think wizards can use ambient magic, don't you?”

Harry faltered. “That isn’t normal?” he smiled despite himself. “That actually isn’t normal?”

Draco took one look at Harry’s face and burst into laughter, a soft, joyful sound that flowed over Harry, filling him with warmth and sending tingles down his back. It was at that moment that Harry realized that any amount of self-deprecation or embarrassment was worth it, if it was to make Draco Malfoy laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more update after this!! I hope you liked this one :D (ps: i've also been posting this on my instagram, @etymolo.drarry!)


	5. Chapter 5

“Potter, wake up! _Potter!_ ”

Harry sat up quickly, already disappointed in himself for waking Draco again. _I need to figure out an alternative._ Maybe if he took dreamless sleep—it was addictive, but surely Harry would be fine, right? It would just be for the rest of quarantine, and then he could quit. “Sorry,” he mumbled sleepily.

Draco stared at him in confusion before he realized what Harry meant. “No, you didn’t wake me up. Look at this!” 

Harry squinted at the blurry shape that stood in the middle of the room, before quickly putting on his glasses to see what Draco was talking about.

 _“Expecto patronum!”_ he cast, and to Harry’s surprise, the white, translucent tendrils that flowed out of Draco’s wand quickly grew to form an incorporeal Patronus. “See? I’m doing it!”

“That’s amazing,” Harry grinned, and he yawned, blinking in the light that was already streaming in through the window. “That only took you, what, a week and a half?”

“Ten days,” Draco replied, his eyes focused on his Patronus, “see? I told you I could do it.”

“That you did,” he rolled his eyes, “I wonder what your Patronus form will be,” he grinned slyly as he slid out of bed, “my money’s on a ferret.”

“Oh, screw you,” Draco grumbled, blushing when Harry laughed at his reaction. _“Expecto patronum!_ Ugh, how do you make it corporeal?”

“Your memory might not be powerful enough,” Harry stepped back to study Draco’s form. “Or—hang on, don’t forget to move your wand in circles as you cast.”

 _“Expecto patronum—_ c’mon! _Expecto patronum!”_

“You can’t force it,” Harry explained, “if your magic comes from a place of anger or frustration, the Patronus charm will never work. Trust me, I know. Imagine your magic pooling inside of you and picture it as water flowing out of your wand,” he frowned at how silly he sounded. “That’s what I do, at least.”

Draco took a deep breath. “ _Expecto patronum—_ you’re a horrible teacher, Potter.”

Harry gave him an amused smile. “It had a bit more shape that time,” he said.

“Oh, now you’re just humoring me.”

“Maybe if you move your wand like—” Harry tilted his head, thinking to himself out loud. “ “Here,” he stepped closer to Draco, wrapping one arm around his shoulders so he could place his right hand over Draco’s wand. “Cast again, and let me move your hand,” he tried to ignore the strange numb feeling that came over his arms when he stepped closer to Draco.

 _“E—Expecto patronum,”_ Draco stumbled over the incantation as Harry quickly moved Draco’s wand in tiny circles. The spell worked despite the stuttering, and this time, the Patronus had a bit more shape. It took a bit longer than usual, but the Patronus became corporeal after a few seconds. “Are you _kidding?"_ Draco's mouth stretched into a grin. "My Patronus is _Charlie?"_

Harry's mind jumped to _Charlie Weasley_ , which, given the context, didn't make any sense—and he stared at the peacock Patronus that was currently fanning out it's feathers. "Charlie?" He repeated. 

Draco was still watching his Patronus in awe, but he tore his eyes away to glance at Harry. "Er, my father's been raising albino peafowl since I was little. My favorite one was called Charlie."

"You named him _Charlie?"_ Harry stared at him. "When every other name in your family is celestial—or, or _botanical,_ given your mother—you chose _Charlie?"_

"Don't be daft, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes, "his name was Cepheus, but of _course_ I couldn't pronounce it at the age of five, so I just called him Charlie."

"It's fitting, isn't it?" Harry laughed, watching Charlie strut around the room, "a peacock? They're so _dramatic_ and _pompous."_

"Hey!" Draco flushed, waving his hand dramatically before clenching his fist and lowering it. "I am _neither_ of those!" His smile had vanished from his face."

"I like peacocks, though," Harry tilted his head, "they're pretty cute, too."

His eyes widened. "Oh."

Suddenly aware of how close he stood to Draco, Harry subtly shuffled back a step. "Don't deny it, though, you're _very_ dramatic. I just think that—” Harry was interrupted by the door slamming open—the same door that hadn’t opened in forty days.

“Harry!” Ron burst into the room as Harry jumped away from Draco, and the Patronus vanished. Ron left the door open behind him and scooped up the piece of parchment that had gone unnoticed on the kitchen table. “Didn’t you see the notice? They lifted the quarantine—” he tripped over the robes Harry had left on the floor.

“I’m leaving,” Draco said shortly as soon as Ron came into sight, and headed for the bathroom.

Ron rolled his eyes, his eyes on the announcement in his hand. “You didn’t notice this?”

Harry ran his hands though his hair, feeling like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “I—I mean, I guess I just didn’t hear it come in—”

"I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to get away from the ferret," Ron snorted. "Which, why haven't you mentioned that in any of your letters?" He leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice. "What's it like, being in close proximity to him and all of his _'evil thoughts?'_ Is it anything like wearing that awful locket—"

 _"Ron!"_ Harry squawked indignantly, "what are you trying to say?"

Ron eyed him curiously as Harry glanced at the closed bathroom door, and his eyes widened “Listen mate, you know I support you, right? I know Hermione’s been hinting at some… _things,_ ” His face took on a pained expression. “But… listen. I know you’re good at hiding your emotions and all… but that only works when you’re _aware_ of them.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

Ron stood from his chair. “C’mon, I’m your _best mate_ . I _know_ somethings up.” He looked Harry up and down. “You’re stuttering, you’re _blushing,_ and you won’t even look me in the eye!”

Harry forced himself to look Ron in the face. “What are you trying to say?” He asked again.

“Harry, the last time I saw you like this was when Ginny kissed you at the breakfast table.” He wrinkled his nose and lowered his voice. “You know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking you _fancy_ someone.” He cast a significant look at the bathroom door. 

“No, I—”

“Oh, _c’mon_ , Harry,” Ron sighed, “you looked at him for _two seconds_ , and were basically undressing him with your eyes.”

“Okay, _stop._ " Harry held his hands up. He just wanted him to _stop talking_. “Stop! Fine, you’re right. I fancy Malfoy, okay?”

“Shh, Harry!” Ron frantically waved his hands, “you said that a _little loudly_.” 

“Yeah, just a little,” a voice drawled behind Ron, and he whipped around to see Draco leaning against the doorway. 

Ron looked to Harry in a panic. “Now _I’m_ leaving.” He turned on his heel and rushed for the doorway, nearly tripping on the chair he’d pulled out from the kitchen table.

Harry’s mouth went dry as he watched Draco cross his arms, smirking. “Sorry, I—”

“Did you say that you _fancy_ me?” Draco’s voice was surprisingly sultry, and he stood against the doorframe in what could only be described as a _‘sexy’_ pose.

“No!” He answered quickly, and sighed. “Yeah, er—" 

“As in, you want to be _with me_?” Harry didn’t understand why Draco was approaching him so slowly. Why didn’t he just yell at him and get it over with? It wasn’t like they were trapped in the same room anymore.

“Um, isn’t that what fancying someone _means_?” Harry paused. “Look, I’m sorry, I know you hate me and I know that you being gay doesn’t mean you like every guy you meet, I just—” he found himself unable to breathe when Draco took another step towards him, and Harry backed up a step, his back hitting the bedpost.

Draco reached for his hand, cradling it in his palms. _“Harry,”_ his voice was smooth, but Harry noticed that he was trembling. “Can I kiss you?”

“ _W—what_?” Harry blinked hard, trying not to think about Draco’s warm breath on his face, or the way his silver eyes glinted mischievously, or his—

“You can say no,” Draco clarified.

“Why—why would you want to _kiss—_ ” Harry swallowed, his mouth dry, "—to kiss _me_?”

“Because I’ve _fancied_ you since _third year_ , you prat,” Draco scoffed. 

Harry's heart jumped into his throat. “I—oh,” he whispered. “Then yes. _Please.”_

Draco lunged forward to _finally_ connect their lips, his hands tangling in Harry’s hair immediately. There was a moment of pure, utter _bliss,_ until Draco pulled away roughly at the sound of the door opening again.

Harry opened his eyes far too slowly, and he turned to see Hermione, with one hand still on the doorknob and the other over her mouth. “ _Oh,_ ” she squeaked. Behind her, Ron stood with an guilty expression, silently apologizing that he had not prevented her from entering. She suddenly closed her mouth, which had been hanging open, and closed the door.

"Shit," Harry muttered under his breath, his face flushed. He kept his eyes glued to the door to avoid looking at Draco.

"Ah, well," Draco responded breathlessly. "That was, uh—”

"Yeah," Harry laughed nervously.

"Was that— I mean—"

"Definitely," Harry answered quickly, before removing his glasses in a jerky motion. "You've smudged my glasses," he chuckled, taking his time cleaning them on his pajama shirt to keep his hands occupied. Draco pushed his hands away from his face when he went to put them back on, gently taking the frames from him. “ _Malfoy,”_ Harry protested, “I need those to _see—_ ” 

"That's alright," Draco gave him a sly grin, carefully folding the arms of the glasses and placing them on Harry's bedside table. "After all, we wouldn’t want them to get smudged again, would we?"

"What— _oh_ ," Harry bit his lip, smiling when he got the implication. "I suppose I don’t need to see for _that.”_

Draco tucked a lock of hair behind Harry's ear, resting his hand at the nape of his neck as he leaned in to reconnect their lips. 

* * *

“Oh come _on_ , how are you okay with this?” Ron demanded, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where Madam Pomfrey had injected the _coronis virosum_ potion.

“Well, it was bound to happen _eventually_ ,” Hermione mused. “I mean, they were always obsessed with each other. All they needed was to stop fighting.”

Ron gagged. “Malfoy, don’t you have _friends_ you could go spend time with?”

“Well, _Weasley_ ,” Draco drawled. “If I did, I wouldn’t be hanging around a bunch of _Gryffindors—_ ”

“He doesn’t even seem to _like_ you, mate,” Ron insisted, ignoring Draco’s indignant look.. “I don’t see why you like him when he won’t even stop _insulting_ you.”

“Old habits die hard,” Draco shrugged. He grabbed Harry’s hand with his own and gave it a squeeze. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like him,” he looked at Harry for a moment. “You know that, right?”

“Ugh, gross,” Ron made a face, and buried his head in his hands. 

“Hey, guys!” Neville barreled down the stairs, heading toward the sound of his friends’ voices. “Oh, um,” he paused. “Hello, Malfoy.” he looked at the group uneasily before leaning towards Harry. “Are we mad that he’s here, or…”

“No, Neville,” Harry laughed. “Ron is, I think, but that’s all.”

“But why is…” Neville caught sight of their joined hands. “Oh. _Oh.”_ his face broke out into a grin. “Okay.” he said simply, sitting on the sofa next to Ron.

“What, you’re just _okay_ with this?” Ron demanded.

Neville shrugged. “I still don’t like him,” he looked at Draco. “No offense—”

“None taken,” Draco shrugged. 

“But my friendship with Harry is more important than my aversion to Malfoy.”

“Hang on,” Ron spluttered. “I’m not saying Harry isn’t important to me—I just—” he sighed. “I don’t think he’s good for you. I mean, he’s still a git—”

“Just give him a _chance_ ,” Harry interrupted. “Please,” he added wearily.

“Fine,” Ron buried his face in his hands. “Fred and George are going to have a _field day,”_ he sighed miserably, looking up to see confused faces all around. “Er, the map—” he glanced nervously to Draco, then to Harry. “You know how much they studied the map before they gave it to you. _Well,_ that means they saw how much Malfoy would follow Harry around.” He smirked at Draco, who slowly turned red.

“Did you _really?_ ” Harry looked at Draco, grinning.

“Oh _please,_ as if you didn’t do the same!” He protested.

“He’s got a point, Harry,” Hermione said sympathetically.

“I thought he was _up to something!”_

“Right, like you didn’t think that because you were already studying his _every move.”_

Harry’s jaw dropped. “I thought you were on my side!” He pointed at Ron threateningly, inciting laughter from all of his friends. Harry joined in reluctantly, smiling at the sound of Draco’s laugh in his ears.

Once the laughter finally died down, Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Okay, now that that’s settled, I’ve prepared study schedules for everyone—you too, Malfoy—so we can catch up now that quarantine is over.” She procured a stack of parchment from her bag, ignoring Ron’s groan. “I used a different colour coding method this time, so I’d like your feedback once you’ve gone over them….” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene was inspired by two tumblr posts by firebolt-101 and lumos-malfoy- both posts are on my instagram (etymolo.drarry) if you want to see them :)


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